Mopping Up
by DinoDina
Summary: His grandma wasn't looking at the broken vase, but she wasn't looking at Teddy, either. Nor was she looking at the photographs on the walls, both wizard and Muggle, of Teddy's parents and grandfather. She was clearly thinking, lost in her memories. His grandma would keep talking, telling Teddy about his mum, and he was so excited. Oneshot written for QLFC.


**Written for QLFC Round 12  
** **Team:** Wigtown Wanderers  
 **Position:** Beater 2  
 **Prompt:** You'll be writing about two characters in an enemies relationship: Teddy and Bellatrix **  
** **Additional Prompts:** 3\. (quote) In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain. – Aberjhani, 4. (word) name, 14. (word) fix **  
** **Word Count:** 1604

 **Thanks to Aelys, Aya, and Rose for betaing!**

 _"In a world gushing blood day and night, you never stop mopping up pain." ~ Aberjhani_

The shaggy mutt was much faster than Teddy, full of energy and hard to control despite being loving and obedient at heart. Teddy was as tall as the dog and was his closest friend, and the two were nearly inseparable. Andromeda loved the mutt—they'd taken him in as a favor for Hagrid, and called him Ruby because of the rusty color of his fur—but she was always hesitant when he was in the house; eight-year-old Teddy was responsible for his age, but he lacked Andromeda's feeling of protectiveness towards the household.

She adored Ruby, she really did, and didn't at all regret taking him in or letting him live indoors, but she dreaded the destruction Teddy and the dog were able to leave in their wake.

She sighed fondly as her knitting needles clacked, thinking about her grandson's love of games and exploration, and counted her stitches to make sure she hadn't dropped any. She was making Teddy a throw for his bed the same color as Ruby's fur—his current favorite color.

"Fifty-seven," she said, and started a new row.

She liked knitting by hand, though she was just as capable of using magic. She felt more at peace knitting the Muggle way, having been introduced to it by Ted, and felt closer to him for it. It had been so long ago now, but her husband's death had shaken her. She felt lonely when she had nothing to distract her, especially when it was so quiet and Teddy was playing.

It was so easy to lose herself in memories—it wasn't quite as painful now, and the memories of her husband, of her daughter, were all fond. But no matter how much time passed, Andromeda doubted the pain would ever fully go away.

She finished her row, counted the stitches, and started a new one.

.oOo.

 _CRASH!_

Teddy covered his mouth with his hands, feeling a blush coming on as his hair turned a mousy brown. It always did when he felt guilty or upset. He could hear his grandma in the next room standing up, about to walk in on Teddy and what had once been a large purple vase lying in shards at his feet.

He hadn't meant to knock it over. He'd only been playing—only running around the house with Ruby and fighting the most dark and powerful wizards ever like Voldemort and Grindelwald.

"Grandma!" he cried when she walked in, surprised at her appearance despite foreseeing it. "I didn't mean to, I—" He looked at Ruby, slinking out of the room guiltily, his tail between his legs. "We—we didn't mean to, it was—"

"An accident?"

Teddy nodded. He wanted to look down, but he didn't. He knew his grandma liked him to admit his mistakes, but it was hard; he didn't like seeing anger or disappointment when she looked at him. But then he noticed that she was laughing, and—.

"Grandma, why are you crying?"

Teddy had seen her cry before—he'd seen a lot of adults cry—but he never liked it.

She smiled through her tears, and as sad as she looked, her eyes were happy. "It's nothing, Teddy, I was just remembering: your mum always broke this vase, too."

"Always?"

She hummed in confirmation, holding her wand in her hand but not yet moving it. Teddy tilted his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ruby stop walking and turn around as if to listen. "On purpose?" he asked. "Or was she playing. Just like me—was she playing just like me?"

His grandma shrugged. "You know, I never quite figured that out. Your mum hated the vase, but she was also the clumsiest person I've ever known…"

"I thought she was a… uh…" Teddy frowned, thinking hard. His grandma had told him once, he knew she had, but he couldn't put his finger on the word. It started with an 'a', he was sure. "She caught bad wizards, Grandma!"

"Yes, she did."

"Well… then she _couldn't_ be clumsy!" Teddy nodded adamantly after he spoke. "If she was clumsy, then the bad wizards would get her."

"She was also very clever and capable, Teddy," his grandma said softly. "You know she was a Metamorphmagus—just like you—but she was also… She was a very good witch."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

His grandma nodded. She wasn't looking at the vase, but she wasn't looking at Teddy, either. Nor was she looking at the photographs on the walls, both wizard and Muggle, of Teddy's parents and grandfather. She was clearly thinking, lost in her memories. Teddy sat down next to the broken vase, feeling his hair return to normal as he stopped feeling nervous. She'd sit down soon enough, and Ruby was already walking over. His grandma would keep talking, telling Teddy about his mum—she didn't talk often because the subject of Teddy's parents rarely came up, but she always had so much to say when it did.

"She got top marks in all her classes—you have to, to become an Auror. She was always a bit of a troublemaker, but never a slacker. Never Head Girl, either, but she didn't want to be. Your mum wanted to go to school and learn on her own terms—and she did. Got top marks, went directly into training with Mad-Eye Moody… Harry knew him, too, you know. Your godfather, I mean. He was a good man."

"What about my dad?" Teddy asked eagerly as his grandmother settled herself down next to him.

"I didn't know your dad at that age."

"Really?"

"Really." HIs grandma nodded. "I only met him after your mum fell in love with him. It was spring, and he visited us with her to help your granddad clear some land for a new garden… and your mum told me that she loved him. They were married that summer. I thought it was fast… but there was a war. She was young, and they were in love. I never doubted him; not for a second."

Teddy felt his smile stretch even wider. There was always something magical about the way his grandma described his parents. They were brave, young, caring… but she rarely talked, and Teddy only knew of them from his godfather, or from Kingsley—who was friends with his godfather—or from everyone else in their extended family.

His grandma sighed. "I didn't know your dad for long. But he was so sweet. So gentle. He made his mistakes, but he always tried to fix them. Always tried to be better—"

"Like you always tell me to do?" Teddy couldn't help interrupting.

She smiled and nodded. "Exactly like that."

Teddy grinned back. People always told him that he was like his mum, and he _liked_ that. He hadn't known his mum, but everyone had loved her, so it was always nice to hear the comparison. But he rarely got compared to his dad. Teddy wanted to be close to both of them, and he hoped he was.

"After you were born," his grandma said, "Remus—your dad—would always carry around photos of you. Everywhere. Everyday a new photo, and he as so excited to show everyone."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." His grandma smiled. Her eyes were shiny. "And your mum did, too. He was always showing the pictures, and she'd stand at his shoulder, smiling. She was so proud. So happy. She let him do the talking, but I could always see it: she was just as eager as he was about the pictures."

Teddy nodded. There were a lot of pictures of him from when he was little, and a lot as he grew up, but only the old ones had his parents in them. His dad was always smiling; his mum had bright pink hair.

Teddy ran a hand through his own rusty red hair, then looked at Ruby where she lying at his feel, one paw on Teddy's grandma's leg. His grandma was crying.

He thought of his mum and felt his hair color change to the bright pink he'd seen in the photos.

Once, he'd asked what happened to his parents. They were dead, he knew, and he also knew that they'd died fighting Dark wizards, protecting the world."They didn't want to leave you," his grandma had said, "but they wanted you to grow up in a world where you have nothing to be afraid of. They wanted you to be able to live."

For the first time, Teddy focused on remembering the name of the person who'd killed his mum. He'd heard it once, whispered in a conversation between his grandma and godfather: Bellatrix.

He couldn't remember her surname, but that didn't matter. It was her fault that his mum was gone, that his grandma was crying. For the first time in his life, Teddy felt hatred flare in his chest. He _hated_ her. She was worse than Voldemort and Grindelwald, who'd already been defeated.

His grandma was still crying, still thinking and remembering, but no longer talking. She was smiling—kind of—so Teddy couldn't tell if it was a happy memory. It was probably both happy and sad; memories were usually both. Teddy crawled over and looped his arms around his grandma's neck.

She'd leave, and he'd get back up and fight Dark wizards. But he wouldn't be fighting Voldemort and Grindelwald anymore. He'd be fighting Bellatrix, the most evil and horrible person who'd ever lived. She deserved everything he'd send her way, and she'd deserve the horrible defeat he had in store for her.


End file.
